The Sane Whim
by AceMate
Summary: "Batman, you have threatened to do any means possible to stop me besides killing me. Perhaps, it would be best to allow me to remove the problem you have most graciously left Gotham to bear for so many years."
1. Chapter 1

_Second Chapter will include DC characters. I own nothing. Sadly._

Dr. Marigold Valencia was unsettled, defeated by no means anything besides the cruelty of human nature. She was in a place far from her usual comfort and forced to undergo rules of society. The volcano within inflamed, begging to erupt from her core and release her anger on the world just as soon as her exterior would let it.

However, _she_ was Dr. Marigold Valencia; Poised and polite in behavior. She made care never to show emotion around others and kept it a discreet secret if she were ever to do so in any public place.

This wasn't the place or the time for such behavior. However, cold indifference did appear the right face to bestow around these people as she entered the building and into an elevator.

It was the annual Christmas Party at Wayne Towers. It was a special event for board members and any important guest paying contribution to Gotham's most prized philanthropist, Bruce Wayne.

Dr. Valencia walked steadily through the hall into the ball room, where she came upon the mass of people and overwhelming smell of sweet champagne and wine. Waiters promenaded through the crowd, bearing the small glasses of liquid courage and escape. The good doctor promptly accepted one of these offers, and then secluded herself to a corner. She clasped the flute, sipping lightly and people watching. Many people came to the black and white ball. Her guesses were correct. They flocked and socialized just like the sick wealthy people they were, pretending to be of good measure towards the people of Gotham, or their benefactor for that matter. No, the doctor suspected-no, knew that they were here purely to boast about charity work and to make themselves loved among their own people, lying and cultivating as they did. It made her sick.

She gulped down the rest of her champagne, not allowing the honey and ginger ale taste a moment to settle on her tongue. She licked her lips. As she did so, a stranger meandered up to her, not swaggering like she knew some of the other patrons would be doing in less than an hour.

"Good Evening," he said, "if you don't mind my asking, who are you?"

Dr. Valencia managed a small smile in courtesy, secretly detesting the way the man did not introduce himself first. She certainly did not plan to give him her name first.

"Who are you?" She asked blatantly. The man shrunk back slightly, jiggling his champagne flute in process, clearly showing offense.

"Are you sure you don't recognize me?"

"No, I can honestly say I don't." _Nor do I care_.

"I'm Dr. Arkham, head of Arkham Asylum. You must not read the papers. Are you new in town?"

"Oh now I know who you are. You're the man responsible for all the criminals breaking out and running amuck through the city." She relaxed a bit, enjoying Dr. Arkham's expression change from content rage.

"How-how dare you!"

"How dare I? I'm afraid you're the one to have the disadvantage here all on your own. Had you kept an eye on some of the criminals or at least treated them right, perhaps they may stay and receive proper therapy. But alas," she gripped his gaze, speaking her mind slowly and definitely so to come off clearly, "they only have _you_ to guide them." She withheld his gaze a few moments longer, enjoying the experience of destroying a man's pride that rightly deserved it. Even after only four years in Gotham, she could spot a snake when she saw one. Dr. Arkham was most assuredly, without question, a serpent of wealth with an image conscious. Perhaps showing a bit of contempt emotion was what some of these people needed.

Few around them noticed their conversation, enjoying each other's company without a moment's care, and not doubt awaiting the appearance of the long anticipated Wayne Billionaire. Dr. Valencia promptly excused herself from the still gaping Dr. Arkham. She walked through the ball room, shooting glares at whomever chanced eye contact. Her happiness was granted only at the sight of the piano and a woman standing next to it, dressed in an elegant shimmering party gown with long wavy brown hair. Dr. Valencia handed off her glass to a waiter and met the woman.

"Goldie you made it!" Announced the woman throwing her arms around her. Dr. Valencia hugged her sister warmly and the two stood back to look at one another. "Can you believe that we're here? I mean we're actually here. I've never sang in front of so many people before. Mr. Wayne is so generous."

"I see, and at one of his famous galas. You're very lucky." Dr. Valencia offered with a cold smile.

Sonya looked around the room anxiously. Dr. Valencia knew it was for her fiancé, Ambrose Du Bris, who so happened to also be her accompanist. After gazing off for a period of time, she asked," How are the drinks?"

"You haven't had any?"

"Oh no, the alcohol's bad for my throat. I can't afford to soak my vocals in drunken song like some of these people look like they may do at any second….no, I need this performance tonight. If Mr. Wayne is happy with me, he might fund a tour. Do you know what that would mean for Ambrose and me?"

"Yes. My sister the star."

"Hey! You're no stupid kid, Miss Princeton. Getting your PhD and having it when you're twenty two." She laughed.

"Twenty one actually."

"I apologize, dearest. It was what? A few months ago?"

"Yes it was."

"Okay then, you're birthday is close enough. Lets not fight; I want this to be a special occasion. I want you to enjoy yourself."

"Yes, well…it's hard to do that around these sorts of people…"

"Goldie, please….I know you're not fond of the wealthy; I'm not either. But I need this so badly. I hate to bow down and say this but, this could possibly be the most important event in my life, so please side with me."

Dr. Valencia's smile changed to a much warmer manner. "Of course, you know you have my full support. I know you wouldn't sit in with these reptiles unless you were forced to under certain circumstances."

Sonya smiled. Her waiting paid off when her fiancé, Ambrose with nicely combed brown hair and a fine tuxedo he must for with money he was hoping to earn that night, finally appeared kissing her cheek and turning round to greet the younger woman. "Hello, Goldie."

She nodded in return, her smile slightly sliding from its warmest and into its dark corner within. She did like her future brother in law, but it was not him who earned such a cold regard, but rather the figure behind….


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I had trouble deciding how to end this chapter; the next chapter should be up sooner.**

**Disclaimer: I own no characters from DC comics.**

**Claimer: I DO own Dr. Valencia, Ambrose, and Sonya.**

Bruce Wayne appeared out of nowhere as he was sometimes famous to do at his parties and balls he threw. The very first thing Dr. Valencia noticed about him was the deepened purple rings forming under his eyes. It made it difficult to guess his age, taking away the youthfulness and enhancing his features. She tried to imagine him without them but it was difficult. Those sports he was infamous for dabbling in by himself must have been doing a number on him, the doctor observed. If she had to guess, she would say he was late thirties or possibly early forties at the most.

While others were staring, they broke apart a path for him like Moses until he reached the far side of the room where the Valencia's and Ambrose stood by the piano. "Good Evening," he greeted, shaking Ambrose's hand, and kissing Sonya's. "I'm so glad you could come. I'm sure the performance tonight will liven up the spirits in here."

"We sure hope so," said Sonya.

"As if they weren't too lively already…" murmured Dr. Valencia.

Bruce stared at her and offered a small smile, somewhat awkwardly, then looked to the engaged couple for an introduction.

"Oh! I'm sorry, Mr. Wayne, this is my sister, Dr. Goldie Valencia."

"Dr. _Marigold_ Valencia." Corrected the doctor, as she coldly grasped Bruce's offered hand.

"An honor, doctor. You are the famous physicist your sister has talked so much about. She gave me a copy of your proposal on the reuse of energy within a home by means of storage in specialized containers. It sounds intriguing."

The doctor shot her sister a disgruntled look to which Sonya only shrugged and smiled. "Have you read the proposal yet, Mr. Wayne?"

Bruce shook his head sadly and said with his cheeks slightly colored, "No, not as of yet. Matters of business have deprived me of any pleasure reading, but I'm sure the Board of Physics at WayneTech will be interested to hear of it and might very well fund your invention. I would be excited."

"I will be once it _happens_." Stated the doctor.

Bruce gave her a small smile, trying to be agreeable, but in the doctor's presence with her demeanor, it was rather hard to be cheerful. They stared at each other awkwardly for a few moments before Sonya broke the silence. She hesitantly grasped her sister's arm and pulled her away.

"I'm sorry but we're keeping you from your guests."

"Oh, its fine. I don't have any particular friends to talk to tonight." Almost by magic, none other than Veronica Vreeland happened upon him. In her hand was a glass of champagne unwittingly sloshing to and fro when she spotted her prey.

"Bruce, dear, what are you doing over here? You must come and join me. My friends and I were just discussing you." She sneered at Sonya, who stared down at her feet. Dr. Valencia glared at Miss Vreeland, but was secretly happy to be rid of Wayne.

"Veronica, I was talking to our entertainment for this evening. Won't you meet-"

"Oh but Bruce there's so much we have to say to each other. Its been so long sine I've seen you." She began to walk away, expecting him to follow. He looked over to the Valencia's and Ambrose with an apologetic face.

"Oh, but don't stay on our account, please enjoy yourself." Said Sonya, trying to put on a happy face. Bruce nodded and went off, unwillingly to join his counterpart with her group.

"I don't like Bruce Wayne."

"Surprise, Surprise," sighed Sonya, her eyes still staring longingly at Wayne.

"Don't make fun of me."

"You don't like anyone. Don't deny it, Goldie, but every time you're faced with someone of higher status than you, you shut down and don't say anything. Or worse, say something rude."

"If you knew how all this was going to be with me, why invite me in the first place, hmm? If you're so smart why have me here to support you, when you've obviously got everything to your liking?"

She turned around to have an arm whip her around to face Sonya. "Please, don't go. I didn't mean to hurt you. I just…I have a lot on my plate right now. Please don't leave."

"Fine, but I'm not talking to Wayne again."

Dr. Valencia looked over in Wayne's direction where he was shaking his head and laughing with other socialites. He wasn't holding any wine or champagne, which was the only positive thing she considered about him.

"Don't you like Mr. Wayne at all? He's done so much."

"He's got nice hair, and that suit looks like it cost a tidy sum."

"Oh stop it!" Sonya laughed, apparently in good spirits again. "I have a good feeling about him. Don't you have good feelings about people?"

"No, I don't trust my instincts. That's why we have logic. I prefer my mind's power, thank you."

"Sooner or later, you'll have to trust yourself about something …or someone for that matter." Her smile widened.

Dr. Valencia knew what she was talking about, and instead decided not to continue the conversation. Never would she approach that subject, and how dare Sonya try to bring it up. Sonya didn't know everything even if she was her older sister. Sonya turned toward her fiancé's placing her hand on his shoulder and squeezing lightly.

"You're so quiet tonight, love. What did you think of him?"

"Well, I think he's a fine fellow," stated Ambrose, who was seated on the piano bench, "kids like him usually don't care about people like us, or artistry for that matter."

"Ambrose he's practically your age! He's no kid."

Her fiancé's expression grew sullen and stared off at Wayne. His eyes grew serious, and knitted his brows together in concentration. "I see him as he is, and I think he is a boy, Sonya. Look at him. He looks lost, even with those people around him, can't you feel it? He looks so sad, poor guy."

Dr. Valencia but in, "we all lose our parents at one point or another. The fact is not to allow too much mercy for those who lose them sooner. No one gave us any extra sympathy for losing mom and dad. So, why should I give him any? I refuse to."

Before her sister could chide her, Bruce Wayne tapped a glass which almost appeared to magically emerge in his hand. The short tinkling noise seemed to ring the ball room and catch the attentions of the guests in only a few moments.

"My friends, thank you for coming here to celebrate with me a night of great triumph for the Wayne Enterprise family."

A short hum of voices echoed their agreement with some clapping and laughter.

"For years, my family has dedicated itself to the improvement of Gotham and its resources. We have worked long and hard, all of us, to get to this point in all of our careers. This company means such much to all of us and I know that I am thankful to have so many supporters, and colleagues behind me. I think that this night will allow us to truly appreciate what we have and what people we will gain along the way of the path of life and its uncertainties. I would now like to raise a toast to you all, and to every Wayne who could make this dream come true. To Gotham and its future!"

"To Gotham!" Everyone repeated, and drank their respective glasses. Bruce replaced his glass on a tray and gestured toward Sonya and Ambrose.

"Now if you will allow me to introduce to you to some very important people, they'll take over from here."

Mutters of agreement floated through the crowd. All eyes appeared on the couple as they positioned themselves to perform their number. Dr. Valencia excused herself from the stage and walked down into the crowd to the along a couple who smelled too strongly of fruity wine.

Ambrose began to tap the keys gently, producing a melody too beautiful for even his future sister-in-law to ignore. The enchanting tune made the crowd swoon over the pianists obvious talents with the keys. Dr. Valencia had never really heard him play before, at least not in front of a live audience when something depended upon it. But this was something entirely different, something she couldn't ignore so easily. Upon hearing the tune after a few moments she realized she recognized the tune. It was Vide Cor Meum. She remembered it from _Hannibal_ last she saw it, from the opera scene. The music was beautiful and the only thing to make it better was when her sister began to sing the solo. The doctor knew it was a duet but supposed it was rearranged to accompany her sister's singing. She felt a swell of love for her sister, just then. The light, yet powerful voice of Sonya Valencia was absolutely beautiful, singing the Italian as if she spoke the language fluently, (which to her credit, she did not.)

The doctor was so distracted by it that she forgot about the others and turned back to look at Bruce Wayne who was mesmerized. The doctor read his expression and hoped it was the song that captured his attention and not the looks of a certain performer. He word the mask of kindness, but she was sure he was not as honorable as people said he was. He was, after all, richer than any other in the city. Her sister was engaged. She saw the way he looked at Sonya when he came to talk. Not many things could be hidden from her. She liked Ambrose and could not see him be hurt, him being with as few words and indifference similar to her. He was perhaps one of the only other people besides her sister she cared about.

A loud uproar broke her reverie. The sound of gunshots and a woman's scream echoed through the marble halls. Where the double doors once stood, was a stream of bodies. Men in black hustled inside carrying heavy machine guns, moving and threading through the crowd like trained Swat teams. Only they must have been a gang, sent by a crime lord or mob boss in some form of attack to get some easy cash with the guests here, knowing that Gotham's finest would be sporting their most expensive accessories, especially the ladies. It was only when the true horror came forward that truly silenced the crowd's whimpering voices.

The Joker stood apart from the rest, dressed in his usual purple suit and tacky orange waistcoat. Everyone around him slunk back. Spouses hugged one another and the single guests were left to either huddle with a group or make with courage and stand alone, facing the mad man himself.

"Don't stop the party on our account!" Screeched the mad man, followed by one of his notorious cackles. "We only stopped because we were in the neighborhood. Right, boys?"

The men clicked their guns, slinking around slowly and pointing it at every individual, ready for action.

"Right. I've so looked forward to one of these parties, no doubt thrown by the billionaire boy, Bruce Wayne. Am I right? Bruce Wayne having one of his shin digs. Oh this was going to be so much fun! Where is little Brucie? Can anyone find him?"

The crowd looked around. Dr. Valencia spotted Veronica's fiery hair, but no Wayne beside her. She seemed surprise to find that her billionaire playboy had disappeared from her arm. The doctor fumed. _Damn bastard. You coward_.

"Well? Is anybody going to introduce me? Or am I going to have to find him myself? Because believe me…_you don't want me to_." His grin disappeared as much as it could and replaced by it was the evil grim look the Joker gave whenever he was really being serious on rare occasions. He produced a shotgun and clicked it, sending the gunshot howling through the roof.

"Brucie Brucie, come out and play!" The socialites whimpered, women were crying while men stood still as stone. Joker no doubt found this to be very amusing. "Lets make a little game out of this shall we? The first person who gives up Bruce Wayne doesn't get shot and gets to watch the rest of you die. If sixty seconds pass and he's still not here, you all get to die! Won't this be fun?

"No!" Shouted Ambrose who was beside his fiancé in a split second. She grasped onto him tightly and buried her face in his lapel. He looked over a the Joker who only seemed so much more excited that his soon to be victim would cause a great heartbreak, something that would bring greater joy than any would imagine.

"Oh we have a _plucky_ one…" he pointed the gun at Ambrose.

"Not here." A violent punch sent the Joker hurtling to the floor. Batman stood in his wake, having appeared from nowhere. The goons lurched at him, but was deceived by the barrage of batarangs he tossed around in a circle, relieving the criminals of their weapons, while being forced to settle with hand to hand combat. As Batman broke apart the gang one by one, tossing them into walls, and slamming them into concussions, the guests dispersed, screaming and shouting at each other to hurry towards the stairs and elevator. Dr. Valencia ran towards her sister and there they stood, blocked by the fight. They back against the window, fear soaking into their spirits as they watched the dark knight battle his way through the clown goons.

The Joker stood by and watched for only a few moments while his men were being tossed around like salads, then from his pocket pulled out a bomb.

"Oh Batman…"he teased once Batman had finished off the last of his men. "Catch." He chucked the metal canister to him, but Batman was launched himself out of the way, unknowing allowing the bomb to sail over to the piano.

Dr. Valencia could barely recall what happened next. She felt tow hands on her shoulders and being forcibly pushed away and falling down the short flight of stairs from the platform and rolling towards the other wall. The loud crack of breaking metal clang around her. The bomb set off and the tinkling of what was left of the metal canisters reverberated over the crashing noises of the window. She held her head, smartly defending herself against the glass shards. When the loud echo ceased, all she heard was the clowns laughter shrill and irrepressible. She slowly uncovered her head and looked back where the platform once stood and to her horror, Ambrose and Sonya gone. A coldness crept through her as she silently regarded their previous positions. She dared not stand up because the clown was still there, but saw that Batman grasped him up by his lapels and growled at him. "One day, Joker…I swear…one day…you'll pay…."

"Sounds like fun, but not as fun as my games! Maybe this will change your mind…" He sprayed Batman with his flower; the toxic fumes engulfed his face, sending the joker venom down his throat. Batman doubled over, unable to breathe and clutched his throat while fiddling with his utility belt, trying to find an antidote. He pinched open the claps and down the antidote, breathing heavily and standing up to face his arch-nemesis. Even though his assault lasted only a few seconds, the diversion was enough to allow the Joker to get away. Batman stood there alone. The Joker had gone, escaped again, leaving him alone with the company of Dr. Valencia.


	3. Chapter 3

**Good Heavens. I can't believe it's been five months since I updated this. Well, this has been sitting on my flash drive since September and I just found it while working on other writing. **

**See first chapter for disclaimer. **

**This is dedicated to Acacia24 for being the first to review **

Sonya was dead. Ambrose was hurt badly…but Sonya…her last living relative and sister was dead. Dr. Valencia could hardly believe it until the doctors at Gotham affirmed the fact. She was walking aimless around the crime sight for hours in disbelief. It felt as though the world had stopped, and she couldn't' do anything to help or aid anyone. According the detectives after the coroner had taken in her sister for an autopsy, the full force of the explosion caused both to be blown out the window. Ambrose landed in a canopy over a flower shop, and had it been any other circumstance, it could have been seen as humorous, but his fiancée was not as lucky. Her death came entirely too quickly with the cement.

Dr. Valencia had never felt this way, not since the death of their father only two years earlier, but that was easier to bear because of her sister. She still had Sonya. _Not anymore…_

The funeral was planned immediately after the autopsy. Dr. Valencia couldn't see anytime to waste and hurriedly hired a planner, choosing to sulk in her double basement and lab. There weren't that many funeral planners, so she had to do what she could. The only useful thing she felt she could do in the memory of her sister was to take in Ambrose. His condition was one that the doctors found interesting and piqued their curiosity. Apparently he had not broken anything. That was not the worst. His body was covered in burns from the fire. Dr. Valencia soon found that the skin graphs would take a while to come in, perhaps months, but in the mean while, the doctors had no choice but to stitch what they could and hand him off to her.

She was uneasy about the arrangement. She had never had anyone at her home with her, let alone live with her. Ambrose's condition also surprised her. He could move and walk still. His hands were somewhat functional, and his fingers were almost the only part of his body that had not been engrossed in flames. Altogether, he was a mess, physically and emotionally. And she was no different.

The funeral came only three days after the incident. Flowers both red and white aligned the coffin where Sonya's remains lay. Her sister decided to place them in an urn, but to bury her so that she may have a more permanent and important resting place with a headstone and grave. The procession awaited the minister's words as he held the bible and thanked everyone for coming.

No clouds were overhead as the scripture was read. Gray skies were all that the Almighty offered on Sonya's funeral. Sonya hadn't picked the scripture; she left that task up to Ambrose, whose trembling fingers poured over the pages in the dim lighting of her basement. How she had a bible, she didn't know. Most likely it came with the apartment, but nevertheless it came handy for once. Dr. Valencia didn't believe in a god, or at least since her mother died and she decided to devote her life to science. There was never a religious calling to her, and she never understood how others could believe such. On a day like this, she found it almost impossible.

When the minister finished, everyone in attendance threw in some token of affection for Sonya. They were mostly flowers, expensive ones. Most in attendance were attendees of the Christmas party only a week prior. Their guilt drew them out of society and into the dirt and gloom of the cemetery.

One by one, Dr. Valencia watched as roses and tulips were tossed into the grave atop an oak coffin. A wreath of white flowers lay over it, given to her graciously by the officers at GPD. She secretly appreciated it, only then she had accepted it with as a cold a face as she ever wore. She regretted it. It was nice to have someone care, but it couldn't erase the fact that her sister was dead.

When the guests began to file away, a gloved hand grasped hers. Ambrose had come to the funeral, dresses in his black garb, with a pitch black veil to shield his face from the cold wind and hearts around. She let him hold her hand, knowing he was the only one who understood her grievance. She peered up into the black abyss hiding his true face, knowing he was staring back at her with pain in his eyes.

She slipped out of his hand and turned to leave. The dead leaves crunched under her worn shoes as she stepped over the frozen ground. The frostbitten ground groaned with every step and she could feel her heart do the same as the walk became an ending trial to escape the death and evil that lie around.

_Goldie…_

A soft voice said from nowhere.

_Goldie…_

She turned to look behind her, but no one was there. Ambrose stopped beside her standing close. "Its nothing she said to him." Still unsure with herself, she held an arm to the street. "Go on without me. I'll be right there."

A low moan escaped from the remnants of his lips.

"Please, Ambrose…do it." Begrudgingly he turned to leave, doing so slowly.

The doctor walked back to her sister's grave. The chill of the burial ground sent shivers up her spine. The doctor was not one to easily spook. She felt the spirits around, the aching feeling that she was being watched. It spooked her and she was unsure of what to do. So, she stood there, watching the gravedigger toss the last mounds of dirt to seal off her sister's portal.

"_Marigold…_" Someone said from afar. She ignored the voices.

"Marigold…" It whispered, coming closer. Still, she didn't listen. The back hairs prickled and she braced herself.

"Marigold…" The voice was louder. She could almost feel warmth near her. She couldn't hallucinating because she was sure she felt a person right behind-

She whipped around to find Bruce Wayne.

"Do you always sneak up on people, or am I your only unfortunate prey?" She spat. She circled around to get away but heard his footsteps following. She mentally cursed herself for the previous foolishness she sunk into. Believing her sisters spirit was still here. She was ridiculous. It would be best to get out of the cold and in front of the fire in her apartment.

"Marigold…Dr. Valencia…I am so sorry. You must know it grieves me about what happened to your sister-"

"Leave me alone Wayne. I'm warning you." She said.

"I will, just let me tell you the news."

"News? Of my sister's apparent death, because I knew that Mr. Wayne, you'll have to come up with something else." She spat. She was in no mood to deal with the man responsible for her sister's death.

"The Joker commits these crimes everyday. That doesn't make them any less horrific. However, everything was done that could be done about the investigation-"

"Why? Why in Hell should I let you or believe you? You stink of aristocratic trash, Mr. Wayne. I know exactly what you are. You lie and deceive. You make yourself appear so proud and modest to the public. They fall in love with you. I didn't believe it for one second. Now, I have my proof. The real Bruce Wayne is a coward, and a madman got away with killing a beloved sister. Let it be known it was all your fault. Even Batman couldn't stop him, but at least he had the courage to try. He attempted to save her, which is more than I can hold you accounted for!"

She tried hard not to burst into tears. It was not in her nature to show much emotion around others, especially sadness. And especially not to Bruce Wayne.

Bruce stared at her, face full of grief and honesty. She couldn't believe it. He could play parts well…but I won't fall for it."

"I came here to tell you that your grant had been approved. The board had given you-"

"The board can go to hell. You don't think I know how that happened? It was a pity vote. It was a consolation prize for what happened. They feel responsible. They should. No amount of money will make me happy, Mr. Wayne. It can't bring my sister back." She looked away, hoping he would get the hint. He did.

His face was grim. "I'm sorry, doctor."

She ignored him, turning her back to him so he couldn't see the incoming tears. By this point the remembrance and pain was too much to bear.

"If it's any consolation, I know what its like to lose someone. You have every right to feel the way you do. See me if there's any day you feel you need to talk."

"Doubt it."

"Goodbye, Dr. Valencia."

He walked back to his limo, leaving Dr. Valencia to her tears and the fresh flakes raining down from above.


	4. The Die is Cast

Dr. Valencia and Ambrose returned to their apartment just a block away from the cemetery. A week passed since the funeral. Nothing had changed. The world kept going around and the other people of Gotham kept up their merry, miserable lives as another murder was added to the city's increasingly growing homicide archives. Life went on. Naturally, Marigold and Ambrose were the exception.

Ambrose moved into her apartment. It resembled a townhouse but was far from the elegant ones in the inner part of the city. This one had gray paint rubbing off the front and the roof bent into a lower curve. It was three levels, not including the basement which the doctor used as a lab. It was off limits to the other occupants of the second and third levels. The neighbors were present solely to break up the rent. Their involvement in her life was purely a check in her mailbox the first of every month. Besides, the charges only paid enough for water and heating. It was a small building, sometimes considered ratty, but the money required to fix it up would be too much for her to contribute.

The doctor and Ambrose sat in the basement alone. It was dark with very little lighting options save for the lone lamp beside her work desk and the tall one in the corner that she rarely manipulated. Above her desk was a large computer screen displaying the model of the invention she had spent her time on for the past two years. Upon her desk was a large keyboard on which she typed absently on.

Ambrose sat in the corner on the ratty sofa. He was glad for the darkness. It provided him his mask. He didn't face his future sister-in-law. Instead he sat doing nothing but stare at his hands instead of the book being held.

Dr. Valencia stared at the monitor blankly. The perfect machine was complete and ready for her to send it off to be manufactured. The scientists at WayneTech had been anxious to receive her prototype. She was not. After the incident, the last thing she wanted was her invention to be in WayneEnterprises. Grant or no grant, her mind was occupied with other thoughts of a much different nature.

Dr. Valencia massaged the space between her upper lip and her nose. Her stare migrated from the spinning image on the monitor to the empty space in front of Ambrose. She parted her lips slightly, sliding her finger nail between her front teeth and nibbled it. Science could not entrance her interest at the present time. Having never felt this way before, she didn't know how to act. One minute, she would feel like crying, the next, throw something, a pen or whatever she could get her hands on, against the whitewash wall.

Her glance shifted to Ambrose who continued to read his book. After six weeks, he had given up on the skin grafts. Yes, they took to his form but it did not disguise the hideous scarring beneath them. His face was now a myriad of pink, magenta and red spots with burns slicing through his once young skin. He could not bear to be in public any longer, choosing an isolated life beneath society than to face the press about his loss.

Marigold knew Ambrose not to be a selfish man. He treated Sonya with respect when they were together, and she never heard a cross word come from him. However, at first she considered him a pushover, but as time went by she believed him worthy of her sister's affections and approved. Whether he was a narcissist, she was unsure. He was blessed with good looks – the wavy brown hair and lightly tanned skin. He blushed whenever someone commented on his physique. He did not show the symptoms of a narcissist, but it did not leave him emotionally immune to the effects of his disfigurement.

She could not weep for him. Only for her sister's loss. She would not weep for a man's lost beauty. That would be foolish and idiotic.

Ambrose must have noticed her sudden staring because he stared straight back at her with an expression that she read as a bit of annoyance.

"Endoying the view?" he asked. His tongue was also partially burned leaving him unable to pronounce syllables like "r, th, and j." His lips had been sewn into place so that they were too stiff to form proper language. Marigold sometimes had a problem understanding him, which was difficult to hold back given her outspoken nature.

"No," she said plainly. Her eyes did not turn away. She was no longer looking at him but the space above his head. Her head bobbed slightly in thought as her finger slid slightly across her bottom lip. Ambrose was not convinced.

"Don't look at me," he whispered harshly. Tears were behind the words as the droplets slid down the spoiled cheek.

Dr. Valencia turned away partially out of courtesy as well as for disgust of his emotions. Yes, he had been scarred. Yes, there was great pain behind that physically and emotionally. He lost someone dear to him, but so did she, and now she faced the awful truth and did not cry useless tears that would never bring her sister back.

"Ambrose, I have taken you into my home. Don't accuse me of things of which have no consequence to your fate."

"Don't stare at me, anymore. I can feel youw gaze every time you do it. Are you happy it was me intead of you? That Batman saved you intead of us?"

She flipped right back in his direction. "Stop it, Ambrose. You know full well I don't. Now stop before I regret my decision once and for all. I'm sick of you feeling sorry for yourself. Sick of it I lost someone too. You understand that? I knew Sonya perhaps better than you. She was my big sister. How dare you think that I don't care? I'm not heartless."

Ambrose closed the book and gripped it in his knobby hands. The long scars reflected in the desk's lamplight. He suddenly became fascinated with them.

"I'm sowy, Marigold," he whispered softly.

Her expression softened as well. She could not stay mad at him for long. The grief was taking a toll on the both of them. They needed to do something, anything. Only, she didn't feel like doing anything and only wanted to stay indoors and work on her project. Suddenly, an idea sprang to mind. A way to rid of the grief and equalize everything. It came out as a whimsical idea, like one that anyone with grief would think of, but this was different. Something inside her mind clicked. Her face bluched in anger and excitement as the thought began to spread through her genius. The idea developed into a much more complex formula rather than a simple thought bubble. Suddenly, nothing in the world appeared more logical.

"Ambrose," she spoke curiously, her tone seized his attention. "There is an idea. An malevolent idea."

He leaned forward slightly. "Wha' kind of idea?"

She smiled evilly. "A very bad idea that will rid us of all our problems. I can guarantee it."

"Wha' is it?"

"You won't like it."

"Wha'?" He leaned toward the desk. Marigold swung her knees under her chin and began to swerve slightly in her chair excitedly. She began to speak like a child excitedly for its first Christmas.

"It's awful and illegal. Society will never forgive us for such a crime. Unless…"

"Unless what?"

"Unless it's done to the right person. Society may leap for joy when we've done it. I don't care about their opinions but maybe the GPD won't even care enough to charge."

"A cwime? What awe you saying, Mawigold?"

Her grin slanted into a half smile that suggested everything sour in her soul coming to surface at that very moment.

"Ambrose…brother, I'm going to kill the Joker."


End file.
